


Strange Magic

by Katsnap



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Magic, Marvel Universe, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsnap/pseuds/Katsnap
Summary: Approaching Doctor Stephen Strange for help was the last thing you really wanted to do...but he was the only one that could help in this instance. A former patient of his, he thought he knew quite a bit about you.
Turns out, he barely skimmed the surface to your strange world.
Stephen Strange x Reader





	1. Hello Doctor

It was exhausting, really, dealing with the constant tirade of goons that dogged her everywhere she went. Didn’t they have a _life_? Seriously, go get laid or something. How much was their salary? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t enough to be dealing with her.

(Y/n) turned down another street—completely opposite of where she was actually intending to go—and waltzed along like there wasn’t a care in the world. There really wasn’t with them, but whatever. A little cockiness went a long way, she learned years ago. Be confident, not stupid.

Another right turn, down an alleyway. They’d be making their move soon.

It was the same routine, every. Single. Time. Again, tiresome. She stopped mid-stride and pulled out her phone, idly flipping through her music while she waited. It was funny, really. The people she wanted attention from, never passed her a second glance (probably from her choice in wardrobe), but the people she really just wanted to die couldn’t leave her alone.

(Y/n) found a song to her liking and pocketed the phone again, her Bluetooth headphones blaring with heavy metal. Oh look, the goons arrived. One of them was talking, most likely the same spiel as every other time. Not that she could tell, she had good music playing. Fuck annoying speeches.

She tapped a booted foot against the ground in time to the bass drum, swaying a little as she waited. She never made the first move. Never went on offence right off the bat. She was a defender, not an attacker.

Realizing their target wasn’t even listening to them, the goon squad circled her. About eight total. Easy enough to deal with. The one in front of her shifted stance and she responded in kind, maneuvering herself in a way that would allow quick movement.

The first attack was easy enough to dodge, as was the second. The third one, from behind, took a little bit of agility to avoid, but the result was the same—they all ended up missing her and hitting an opposing figure. Well, that was three out, five left to go.

(Y/n) hummed along to the music as she flicked her wrist, sending a shock of electricity towards her next attacker. The following three were taken out in a similar manner and the last one took off. She snorted and pulled out her phone again, turning off the music and unplugging her headphones from her ears. That annoyance was out of the way. Now to get to her actually place of need.

It was a place she had only been to twice before, but she knew the way by heart. The New York Sanctum Sanctorum. Of which, she was already familiar with the current master of, interestingly enough. (Y/n) glanced up at the insignia over near the top of the building, before opening the door. For most people, the door wouldn’t open, but locked doors had never been a problem for her.

She made her way through the halls, towards the office. She didn’t knock or announce herself, she simply opened the door and stepped inside. Sitting at the desk, in front of the large windows, was a man, handsome with dark hair that had gray about his temples. He looked up in surprise, his dark brows rising more when he saw just who had entered the room.

She gave him a coy smile and shut the door behind her.

“As much of a surprise this is, I wish people would just knock like a normal person,” he finally sighed, his deep voice clearly exasperated. (Y/n) hummed in reply, walking towards the desk. He eyed her, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “To what do I owe this visit?”

(Y/n) was reluctant to speak. She was familiar with the Supreme Sorcerer, he had briefly been her neurologist several years back while he was still in school, but that didn’t mean she wanted to admit her need for his help. Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange was renowned for being stand-offish, arrogant and cold, after all.

(Y/n) flopped down in the armchair across from the desk, looking at him through her hair. He merely looked back at her, waiting patiently. She finally sighed and crossed her legs at the knee.

“I’m in need of your assistance, Doctor,” she stated.

“I’m afraid I’m no longer practicing in the medical field,” he replied dryly.

“I’m well aware of that. That’s not what I came here for,” (Y/n) responded just as coolly. “I’m in need of your particular talents in the mystical arts.”

Strange tilted his head a little, interest and curiosity visible in his gray eyes.

“I’m intrigued with the fact you know of that tidbit—not many are aware of it.”

“I make it my business to be aware of the arcane and those who practice it.”

He raised a questioning brow. “…you mean to tell me a former patient of mine practices the mystical arts?”

“Of some genre, yes,” she smiled at him. “However, my version of mystical arts is slightly different from your own.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, Doctor, I did not train like you did. I didn’t learn my…skills from books or meditation,” she started. “My powers come naturally.”

“How is that possible?” he asked curiously.

“I’m a witch. I come from a long line of witches and warlocks. Magic is in my blood, you see. When I was seeing you as my neurologist, we were trying to figure out what stunted my ability to produce magic. My sister and mother and grandmother never had that issue. We, of course, had to lie about the real reason—what you never really got around to diagnosing before you finished your classes,” (Y/n) said. “You see, the kind of magic I use is related to the mystic arts, but is actually another branch. It’s called the Arcane. And sadly, it’s dying out.”

“What stunted your magic? Is this why you came to see me?” he inquired.

“No, no. Turns out that my stunted magic was actually a natural aversion to the idea of the Arcane. A mental block. I feared it, and wished to never have it, so I didn’t use it. It took a while to convince myself that I didn’t have to use it the same way my ancestors did. Horrifying tales, by the way, I’ll have to share them with you sometime,” she smiled at him.

“I’m quivering in anticipation,” Strange drawled.

“As for my reason to come see you, it’s something considerably direr than the fear of my own magic,” (Y/n) sighed.

“I take it this reason involves more than just you.”

“Indeed. It involves all those who play with the mystical and arcane arts,” (Y/n) stated grimly. “A group, calling themselves the Brotherhood of Beelzebub, has started to hunt down wizards, sorcerers, witches and the like in order to harness their souls, and in turn their powers. From my understanding, they plan to summon the Dark One and grant him permission to overtake the Earth. You know, typical bad guy stuff.”

“I was not made aware of this,” Strange murmured, frowning as he leaned forward, lacing his long, gloved fingers together in front of him.

“Most have no clue, until it’s far too late,” (Y/n) said, “I’m only aware of this, because I was one of the only ones to escape them. They didn’t think I was at my full potential quite yet. They apparently want fully seasoned witches to sacrifice.”

“What of your mother and grandmother? Your sister?” he asked.

“Dead.”

Strange looked a little startled at her flat reply. There was more to it, he could see it in her eyes, but he wouldn’t push it for now. He was quiet for several minutes, thinking over everything she just told him. This could certainly put the world at risk, and hunters of the arcane and mystical were always bad news. It was his duty as Supreme Sorcerer to protect the Earth, after all, from otherworldly beings.

“Well, Miss (Y/n), this news certainly brings up some serious concerns,” he finally started, leaning back in his chair. “Of which, I would certainly be happy to help deal with. I have a duty to follow, and I don’t plan on backing down on that yet.”

(Y/n) smiled at him. “I was hoping you would say that, Doctor.”

“Yes, well…I kind of live here too. And please, just call me Stephen. Doctor Strange is for my enemies and the news media,” he quirked the corner of his lip into a small smile.

“Duly noted.”


	2. Snarky Witch

If there was one thing to know about Stephen Strange, it was that he was arrogant. Arrogant and sarcastic, perhaps a little cynical. But strangely likeable. Oh sure, (Y/n) hadn’t cared much for him as a young doctor, still in med-school studying to be a neurosurgeon. In fact, she had outright called him an egotistical prick to his face (which in turn earned a rather priceless expression from him and a horrified one from her mother).

But now, as an older man who had been through terrible burdens and accidents, he was a bit more likeable because he was a little more understanding. Just a little.

Still an arrogant ass, though.

“You’re staring at me again,” Strange drawled without looking up from the book he was studying.

“Mm-hmm,” (Y/n) hummed in agreement and continued to stare. She knew it was bothersome to the magician. Hence why she did it.

His brow twitched and his jaw clenched a little in annoyance, but he persistently stared down at the book on the table, hands moving in their slightly shaky manner as he turned pages or absently practiced signs. It was almost amusing, really. She knew he needed to study the book to understand the Arcane a little better, but she just couldn’t help it. She liked irritating him, even if to get some other emotion that wasn’t sarcastic egotism.

His hands dropped to the table and he turned his head to glower at her. (Y/n) smiled at him sweetly. “Yes, Doctor?”

“The staring. Quit it. I need to concentrate and you’re not helping me,” he ground out.

“You know, if you have just accepted my assistance to begin with, I wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for the first fuck up,” (Y/n) grinned sardonically at him. Strange stared at her intensely for a minute, his expression threatening to send her to another dimension. His brow twitched again and her grin grew wider.

“I don’t see how I’m doing anything wrong,” he drawled out, narrowing his eyes a little.

“Because you’re not a master of the Arcane, dear heart,” she sang. “I, however, am.”

“I’m the Sorcerer Supreme.”

“And I’m the Heir of Wicca. There’s a difference between the mystic arts and the Arcane, Doctor Strange,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead exasperatedly. Gods, this man was stubborn. “What happened to ‘opening your mind’ when you trained under the Ancient One?”

Strange shot her a nasty look and (Y/n) felt a tad guilty. He had blamed himself for the Ancient One’s death, after all, so bringing up the former Supreme Sorcerer was a little bit below the belt.

“Look, try and understand here.” (Y/n) pushed to her feet and walked over to the table, dragging the book away from him. “There is a lot of ‘should not’s’ and ‘if’s’ when dealing with the Arcane. Witchery comes from a darker part of the other dimensions. It’s a matter of self-discipline, control and morality that makes a witch or warlock a good person. There have been a lot of them that have studied the Arcane for good, and ended up persuaded to do bad. There’s more of a complication when it comes to the Arcane.”

“And that is?” Strange inquired, still irritated.

“When you commit to it, you sell your soul—literally—for magic,” she said. “There’s a price to magic in the Arcane, and for those who are truly consumed by it, it’s your own life force.”

“I take it you don’t get to live a long and prosperous life?” Strange asked.

“Oh, we certainly can. We have replenishing potions and rituals to keep our lives long. But too much magic in too short a time can certainly kill or corrupt us,” (Y/n) hummed, flipping through the book. “There’s always a catch with magic. Even with the mystical arts.”

“Yes, they tend to put the warnings in the back of the books,” he grinned cynically. (Y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle. “Shouldn’t your books mention all of this, though?”

“Oh no. You learn a basic understanding of the Arcane, and a couple of simple spells, but the rest you have to learn through studying under a Higher Witch or Warlock. It takes years of rituals and potion making, trial and error with spell scrolls…a lost finger or two, but those are easily fixed.”

“….so I literally have to become your understudy to learn this.”

“Yup!” (Y/n) cheerfully quipped. Strange bit back the urge to groan, instead rubbing his temples. “Oh come on, you act like I’m the worst possible person to learn the Arcane from.”

Strange merely looked at her.

“….I’m the only person you can really learn it from, so get over yourself.”

The magician took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as he rubbed his eyes. He could only thank whatever deity above there was that he was a quick study. Worse comes to worst, he could always freeze the snarky little witch with his time magic.


End file.
